School Days
by Do the Gabriel
Summary: A story set back in "the good ol' days"-the E! gang is at a high school! But, even though the teens try to deny it, strange happenings are occurring... and they seem to be linked to Principal Early.


**School Days**

_**a mystery**_

Principal Early sighed as Dixie brought in a very mischievous student—Chet Kelly. Chet had been held back and seemed to be savoring his senior year the second time round as much as possible. "What trouble did you cause this time? We may have to expel you," Early quipped. Chet was his favorite student.

"Nothin' too bad," Chet didn't miss a beat. "Robbed a few little old ladies, burned down a few hospitals."

Dixie sighed. "It's not funny," she reprimanded, "And you're going to get in _trouble_ this time."

Early raised his eyebrows. "You're not really the one to be making such decisions around here, are you?" He stared her down. "I believe that would be me."

"Oh, oh yes, of course, sir!" Dix studied her feet on the wood tile floor. "I was just, um… just suggesting… you know, just a, a friendly little suggestion!"

Principal Early nodded slowly, looking quite a bit like Lord Voldemort. "That's what I thought," he answered smoothly, putting her at ease once more.

"Don't worry, Miss McCall," Chet put in a good word, "I'll put in a good word for you." He grinned up at her; being one of the shortest in his class, he was a target for quite a bit of bullying.

Dixie smiled back at him. The kid had his heart in the right place—he just didn't know how to go about showing that. Just like some teachers….

Back in his classroom, Mr. Brackett was trying to explain what pi was to those duds when none other than Johnny Gage ran in, typically late and ironically well dressed. "Sorry—uh, sorry, sir!" he practically shouted as he slid into a seat next to Roy and tried to catch his breath; he must have sprinted the whole way from his suburban home.

Brackett's eyes narrowed and he bit his lip, trying to contain his bottomless rage. He couldn't stand Gage; the boy never turned in his homework on time, he talked in class, he was conceited and annoying…. His list of faults went on and on, but Brackett knew that if he dwelled on them he'd never get his teaching done. So, putting an unusual amount of pressure on his pencil, he neatly wrote "tardy" next to Johnny's name on the attendance sheet. He was tempted to mark him as absent but knew better than that at this point… Johnny Gage, after all, was Principal Early's second favorite student, and once, when Brackett had marked the boy absent out of anger, Brackett had been suspended for a month!

A teacher, suspended!

"All right, class, sorry about that interruption," Brackett said, forcing a smile up at his students. "Maybe we should be focusing more on time-telling this semester rather than algebra. Some students still have yet to grasp the complicated technique of reading clocks."

"Sorry, sir," Johnny said again, but this time he rolled his eyes and the disrespectful gesture did not go unnoticed by his teacher.

"Gage!" Brackett yelled through thin lips. "Be_have_ for once, will you?!" Johnny, in response, sank down in his seat until only his shaggy brown hair was visible above the desk.

"Johnny, get up!" Roy whispered, as though Mr. Brackett hadn't already noticed this mishap. "Hurry!"

Slowly, Johnny crawled back up until he was sitting mostly properly again, though he was still afflicted with what Mr. Brackett called Teenage Slouch Syndrome. It was one of the most annoying things about teenagers, he decided.

Brackett cleared his throat. "Let us proceed with the lesson," he announced grumpily, glancing at the clock desperately. Hank Stanley, one of the few students that Mr. Brackett liked, surprised his teacher by snickering.

Then the young man raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Stanley?" Brackett asked, patience definitely waning.

"Well, sir, it's just that—" he giggled again, "—Marco's got the hiccups!"

"No he doesn't, bad excuse," Mr. Brackett dismissed. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Now, everyone, look up at that clock over there—can you all read it without hesitation? …Hm, we'll see… Gage! You first! What time is it?"

Johnny squinted at the clock. "Uh… uh…." His eyes widened with horror at his own stupidity. Finally, after a devastating pause, Johnny said delicately, as though treading through a patch of grass filled with land minds, "Roy? Can you read what the clock says, please?"

"He forgot his glasses," Roy explained slowly, and glanced up at the clock. "It's eleven-thirty."

Mr. Brackett clenched his fists under his desk, secretly—that Gage boy! Always forgetting things! _Homework! A brain! _And now, a new edition!—_His gosh darn glasses!_ Mr. Brackett swallowed his rage, pushing thoughts of blood and murder out of his mind. "Good job, Mr. DeSoto," he praised of Roy's time-reading abilities. Through clenched teeth, he said to Johnny, "Tomorrow you will _not forget your glasses_, correct, Gage?"

"Uh—uh—yessir! Yes, of course, sir!" Johnny (rightly so!) seemed utterly terrified of the way his teacher was acting (not to mention bewildered by Roy's excuse—he had never needed glasses).

Meanwhile, back in the principal's office, Principal Early and his pupil, Chet Kelly, were enjoying soft drinks and swapping stories. "…And _then_, Ms. McCall made an even _bigger_ fool of herself by trying to kick you out of the office!" Principal Early whooped, taking a swig of Pepsi.

"I know!" Chet chuckled, "I was there!" He grabbed an iced cookie off of the refreshment table. It seemed that Chet had not actually put in a good word for Ms. McCall after all!

Suddenly, Principal Early's demeanor turned somber. "Chet?" he asked, leaning forward mysteriously. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Uh… What is it, Principal?" Chet scooted back a bit, just _slightly_ disturbed by his Principal's actions.

"Well, I'm an old sort of man, and nobody really likes me because I'm the principal—a strict rule-follower…." Principal Early looked down earnestly at Chet's mustached face. "Well, nobody likes me… except for you, Chet. You're the only one who really likes me…."

Chet stood up, unintentionally bonking the table with his knees and thus knocking both their drinks violently to the ground. They spilled everywhere. "I think I'd best be going, Principal!" He shot towards the door.

"No! Chet, wait! I wanted to ask you a favor!" Early shouted, stumbling after his pupil. Neither of them seemed to realize that there was soda seeping into Principal Early's custom, one-of-a-kind red velvet carpet that was printed with the words, _Best Carpet Ever For the Best Principal Ever!_ in gold lettering. "Can you lend me fifty dollars?! I want to take Dixie out tonight, but I'm broke! I went out and gambled all last night!"

"Yeah, that's the night we had _planned to go out_, too!" Dixie muttered, sitting obediently at the secretary desk yet disobediently hating Principal Early for his rash actions.

"Oh, well, if that's all…" Chet was lingering in the door frame, looking even smaller under the tall structure. Then he smiled. "Sure, Principal, here's fifty bucks." He handed Principal Early the money, which he for some reason had in his pocket.

"Thanks!" Principal Early appreciated. "I really appreciate it!"  
Chet raised his eyebrows. "'Bye!" he yelled, and sprinted out of the office and towards safety.

However, when Chet reached Brackett's classroom, he was less than safe. The minute he walked in, Mr. Brackett began banging his head against the wall over and over, eyes squeezed tight and fists clenched.

Chet stared. Then he looked at Johnny. "Let me guess… _You_ somehow caused this, right, Gage?" He shook his head in wonder when Johnny nodded that Yes, it was all his fault.

Then faithful Roy jumped to his friend's defense. "Hey, Chet, lay off. I think we all are partly responsible for Mr. Brackett's—uh—I'll just call it an _episode_." He leaned back in his chair and ruffled his thin red hair.

Chet made a face that showed his fellow classmates that he was disgusted, then walked over to Brackett and gently pulled his head away from the wall. "Are you all right, sir?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"NO! NOT WITH THAT _GAGE_ AROUND!" Brackett screamed, ripping his head out of Chet's hand and beginning the banging process all over again.

Chet backed up, alarmed. "I'll get the nurse!" he cried, and ran out of the room.

Mike Stoker muttered something that was entirely inaudible.

Hank stood up. "I think that Johnny should be expelled," he announced boldly, nodding to agree with himself even while he spoke.

Johnny promptly burst into tears, and Roy patted his back sympathetically.

Just then Chet returned with the nurse, a man named Mike Morton who was always grumpy and seemed to hate his job. "Let's see him, then," he said grumpily, walking briskly into the room. Morton's presence was always known.

"Here he is, sir," Chet said, worried eyes shining, and lead him to the teacher.

Indeed, Mr. Brackett was still banging his head, and a bruise had already started to form. "Gahaa! JUST GET THAT _GAGE_ OUT OF HERE!" he shrieked, "THEN I'LL STOP—I PROMISE! JUST GET THAT _GAGE_ OUT OF HERE!" And then Brackett began to sob, still banging his head against the wall with vicious intentions.

Morton, looking quite bored, shooed Johnny out of the room and then walked up to a now calm Brackett. "You need to start taking your medication again, Kel." He looked the teacher squarely in the eye.

"I know…" Brackett said, and shocking the whole class, he took out a bottle of little pink pills and popped one in his mouth. "I know."

Nurse Morton rolled his eyes, looking professionally bored. "If you don't take those twice a day like you're told, you just might lose your job." Mr. Brackett nodded slowly, sadly.

Nurse Morton motioned Johnny back into the room. Brackett tensed, but did not continue the terrifying banging.

Johnny gulped audibly. "Uh—sorry, sir…" He looked at the floor. "I'll—uh, I'll try harder… tomorrow…." The adolescent shuffled back to his desk, his face bright red. Red as a tomato, one might say.

Mr. Brackett cleared his throat. "Class dismissed." He announced, and swept out of the room.

Nurse Morton nodded at the students, looking bored to death, and followed Brackett out. Johnny burst into tears.

Mike burst into tears as well.

"Hey, Johnny, don't cry…" Roy comforted his best friend, rocking him slightly like he was a young child. "Shhh…"

Chet huffed, completely fed up with Gage and DeSoto. "Well, come on, guys, let's go to our next class!" he yelled, and stomped out of the classroom.

"What; lunch?" Hank asked, confused. "Chet, our next class isn't until after lunch—!" he ran out after the shorter student.

Roy led Johnny out gently, brushing one last tear off of his friend's otherwise flawless face. "…Come on, now…"

Soon, the classroom was entirely empty except for Mike, who had decided to spend the last twenty-three minutes before lunch sitting in an empty classroom, crying.

Meanwhile, everyone else was trying to sneak into their next class early so that they could skip it after lunch. It was taught by a fat man named Mr. White. Nobody really knew what subject this class was supposed to teach, because all the teacher did was sit around and eat hamburgers the whole time and look vaguely annoyed that there were students there to watch him.

"Jeez, how can he eat so much?" Hank wondered out loud. "I mean, he's eating now, then he'll have lunch, then he'll eat during _our_ class…" He shook his head in awe.

Chet snorted. "Why do you think he's so fat?" he made fun of, "Because he only eats three meals a day? I don't _think_ so!" Just then, Mr. White keeled over with a heart attack. Roy, certified in first aid, ran to the rescue, leaping over several other students to reach his professor.

"MR. WHITE!" he cried, lifting the fat man—with difficulty—into a sitting position. "ARE YOU OKAY?!" The man shook his head feebly, lying back down and huffing for air.

"It's my heart…" Mr. White was choked off by a hunk of hamburger that had wedged itself in his heart. Roy, being certified in first aid, knew just what to do: hauling White into a sitting position once again, he patted him gently on the back to dislodge the hamburger. It worked.

Coughing and red in the face, Mr. White demanded that his students call a doctor to get him some "Real help!"

Roy looked slightly saddened.

Chet quickly called for a doctor, and in the meantime he brought Nurse Morton over to have a look.

Looking ferociously uninterested, Morton took Mr. White's pulse and respirations. "Mr. White, you need to take your medication more often than once every other Tuesday," he said grumpily.

Mr. White nodded wisely. "From now on, I will," he promised, "Just as long as you do, too."

"My God, is _everyone_ in here on medication?!" Hank said, a bit too loudly. Nurse Morton and Mr. White turned to glare at him. So did Chet. "Uhm…." Hank struggled to think of an adequate excuse for his outburst. "…Um…."

"Here, just lay off him," Roy said slowly, raising his hands palm-side up in an effort to calm everyone down. "We've all had a bit of a… bumpy… morning." Nurse Morton raised one delicate eyebrow, unimpressed.

Just then, Principal Early waddled in the room, still clutching a cookie. Roy couldn't help but think it odd that the principal also had a butcher knife in his belt. "What's all of this commotion about?" he inquired, glancing down to where Mr. White sat clutching his chest. The principal's expression softened. "Is everyone all right?" he queried.

Nurse Morton nodded mutely. "So to speak," he assured, then added, "A doctor's on the way." He said this bitterly, no doubt jealous of the doctor for being a doctor while he was just a nurse.

_Well then why did he go to nursing school?_ Chet asked himself, and then told his inner voices to shut up. He was in no position to criticize the nurse's motives or decisions. After all, Morton had already accomplished much more than Chet had.

Except maybe that Chet had a mustache and Morton didn't.

Johnny started whimpering. "Will a doctor get here fast enough?" he asked, and rightly so, because Mr. White was turning blue and gasping for air.

"Yes!" Nurse Morton snapped, just as Roy told everyone, "I'm certified in first aid!"

Johnny shrank back, trying to blend in with the crowd. Johnny hated people hating him and especially did not want people yelling at him.

Apparently reaching these conclusions himself, the schoolboy burst into tears. Yet again.

"Hey hey hey… _shhh_…" Roy tried to quiet his immature friend. Poor Roy—Johnny embarrassed the lad in public so much!

"No, it's okay, I'm okay," Johnny said pathetically, "I'm just a little… worked up, is all." Roy nodded like that was perfectly acceptable for a seventeen-year-old to be saying.

Teacher Brackett entered the room. His first thought was, _Gage—crying—gaHAA!_ But then he got a grip and assessed the situation. "Hey, is everything all right here?"

Principal Early nodded uncertainly, eyeing the now-unconscious Mr. White somewhat guiltily.

Nurse Morton seemed more confident. "Yes, everything's perfectly fine," he said, sounding bored yet at the same time completely in control of the situation. Hank wished he could sound like that.

Later, at lunch, the friends from senior year chose their own table, getting their lunch sacks out of their backpacks. Except for Roy, who got lunch at the cafeteria like always.

Roy's family was not as wealthy as his friends'. There were rumors that he slept in a cardboard box.

Luckily for Roy, those were just rumors.

"Hi, Mike," the boys said in unison as they sat down around their quietest pal.

Mike muttered something that could have been a greeting and rubbed his red eyes. He sniffed.

"Hey, are you okay?" Roy asked tenderly. Mike nodded, so Roy plowed right on. "Mike, you won't be_lieve_ how much you missed after Brackett's class—"

Johnny took over the story, "—Yeah, Mr. White had a _heart attack_—"

"—He was all red and bloated and purple-looking!" Marco laughed.

"Yeah!" Johnny agreed. "And he couldn't even, like, sit up! And then he fell un_conscious_—"

Hank interjected, "—and Principal Early came—"

"—and Mr. Brackett—" Chet yelled.

"—and even grumpy ol' Nurse Morton!" Marco guffawed.

"Uh, aren't we forgetting something…?" Roy hopefully tapped the table, eager to be the hero of this tale.

"Oh yeah!" Johnny recalled. "He also _got hamburger in his heart!_ All like—" Johnny made a terrible noise come out of his mouth that sounded vaguely like someone being mauled to death by a mountain lion.

"—Yeah!" Marco added, "And he turned even _bluer_!"

Roy sighed. "And I saved his life," he finished, opening his milk carton.

Mike did not give any sign that he had taken any of that in. Instead, he took a lingering bite out of his turkey sandwich and said nothing.

Chet stroked his mustache mischievously. "Hey, guys!" he whispered, pointing over to a small blond boy across the cafeteria. "Looks like Wheeler's on his own today!" Chet snickered evilly. Tom Wheeler was just about the only person in the senior year who was shorter than Chester B. himself.

Hank frowned. "Guys, let's just leave it…" he began in his deep voice, the one he reserved for discipline, and turned away.

But Chet had other plans.

Already halfway across the cafeteria, he called out a friendly greeting to Wheeler, who smiled in reply but walked in the opposite direction.

"Smart kid," commented Marco.

Roy glared at Chet. "You really need to leave Wheeler alone," he said, "After all, you're supposed to treat others as you want them to treat you!" Just as Roy finished this lecture, however, Wheeler turned around and punched Chet in the face.

"Shorty!" The small, blond boy shrieked. "_LITTLE SHRIMPY SHORTY!_" Snickering, the demon child walked away and began eating his lunch.

Chet, looking thoroughly depressed, made his way back to the table. "I didn't deserve _that_," he said.

"Well…" Roy and Hank began, but Chet gave them a look that told them to shut up or else. Johnny sniffled.

"_What_, Gage?!" Chet shouted, tired of the nuisance.

Johnny screamed, terrified. "AAAAAH!" The young man jumped away from the table and sprinted away as fast as a greyhound itself.

Roy's eyes bored into the back of Chet's head. "Now look what you've done," he said quietly. Roy's voice always got quieter when he was angry. And the red haired man was liable to get dangerously protective of Johnny.

Chet left the table as well, furious at the lot of them. He headed to the one place where he knew he would be idolized: Principal Early's office. "Hey, Dix!" he called out merrily to the demoralized secretary. She just looked up from her papers and stared at him blankly.

Chet walked onward into Principal Early's office. He looked admiringly at all the trophies and ribbons that decorated the walls. _Best Principal Ever in the History of Los Angeles Principals_; _Friendliest Principal Ever_; _Best-dressed Principal in the History of the Universe_—the awards went on and on, all complimenting the principal's best traits.

Finally looking down from these wonders, Chet found himself face-to-face with an upside down face, staring at a man with large, unblinking eyes. Chet screamed, stumbling backwards and hitting Early's desk. Rubbing at his bruise, Chet looked back at the man, feeling slightly ill.

It was a corpse. With a chalky blue face and pained expression, arms stiff at its side even though it was hanging upside down by its feet.

Chet whirled around and ran out of the room, past Dixie's bewildered look, and out the door. He kept running, all the way to the cafeteria, where Johnny had rejoined the others at their table and was wiping his cheeks with a Kleenex. "Guys!" Chet gasped, out of breath from his wild flight. "Guys, you ain't gonna be_lieve_ this!" None of them responded except for Hank, who glowered at Chet and put a finger to his lips. _Shh!_

Chet's face must have registered an expression of pure hurt, shock, and betrayal, because then Hank explained their behavior by pointing to the front of the room.

There stood Principal Early, looking grave and tragic, speaking to the students. "…and so that is why I must inform you that Mr. White has died." Early bowed his head respectfully, as though Mr. White was being carried into the room right then.

It took Chet a moment to register that that was _exactly_ what was happening. The short schoolboy hurriedly followed the other students' lead, ducking his head and watching in terrified awe as a coffin was carried past.

It seemed that all the other students were just as confused as Chet—why on Earth would Principal Early allow a corpse to be carried through the halls of his very own school?  
Chet choked down a scream. So much was happening—so many people were dead. It made no sense! This made no sense!

Principal Early looked the students squarely in the eye. He opened the lid of the coffin. Inside was a gruesome corpse, white and puffy with a huge stab wound in its abdomen. "This," he said, "Is Mr. White." Several of the students gasped or vomited into their lunch pouches, overcome by the horror of what was happening. Early continued, "Though he did suffer from a heart attack earlier today, Mr. White did not die of natural causes. He was murdered." Several more students vomited.

"When will the police get here?" somebody asked, but everyone ignored them.

Early nodded at the men carrying the coffin (his burly security guards), who left immediately. "I just didn't want you students to think that I was lying," Early supposed apologetically. "And I assure you, a new science teacher will be appointed to you shortly."

_Oh. So he was the _science_ teacher_, thought Hank. Then, despite himself, _Hmm, maybe we'll actually learn some science with this _new_ teacher…_

Principal Early, meanwhile, was leaving the cafeteria. "If anyone needs to speak about this," he commented, "I'd like it very much if you spoke to me, rather than your parents or siblings." With one more nod, he exited and undoubtedly began the journey to his special office which was labeled 'The Special Office of Principal Early'.

Immediately upon his leaving, the students began a multitude of banging and crying and talking—so much talking that it hurt Hank's ears! "Quiet, quiet!" he yelled. Hank was taking a leadership class at the school, and he was also class president, so everybody listened to him and was quiet.

"What's your plan, Hank?" Roy asked, twiddling his thumbs.

Hank shrugged. "Your talking was just hurting my ears," he explained. Roy's face fell. He had thought that Hank had a plan.

Chet, meanwhile, seemed to be in shock: bulging eyes, frightened and bemused expression, body held stock-still. "Hey, what's up, Chet?" Marco asked. "Are you all right?"

Chet pinched himself to make sure it wasn't a nightmare (then pinched himself again, harder, when he remembered that Gage did that all the time and Gage was a loser and so Chet had to punish himself for acting like a loser). It was not a nightmare, according to the pinch. It told him so. "Uh… I have something to tell you guys…" He gulped, then vomited into his lunch sack. People looked sympathetic but not impressed. The stench of bile already hung heavy in the air. Every breath filled their lungs with germs. Chet started to hyperventilate at the thought.

"Step back, everybody!" Roy yelled, in a voice full of authority. "I'm certified in first aid!" Upon saying this, he stepped up to Chester and asked, "Are you all right, old pal?"

"NO!" Chet screamed, then pushed his friend away. Roy, looking quite offended by this, crossed his arms and said nothing. "Somebody _died_! I saw it! I saw their corpse!"

Marco looked confused. "Uh… We all did, Chet." He shrugged at Roy, and a secret message seemed to transfer between them, _This guy is crazy!_

Chet, seeming unable to speak, flailed his arms about somewhat wildly. Finally, he gasped, "No! NOT MR. WHITE. THIS WAS A _DIFFERENT_ MAN!"

"…Chet?" Hank prodded the boy gently with the tip of his pencil. "Uh… Are you okay…?"

Chet slapped Hank.

Chet was obviously hysterical.

Marco (the brawn of the group) rushed forward immediately and grabbed Chet by his biceps, holding his mustached friend slightly higher than chest level. "Chet, just tell it to us straight," he said, then glared at his friends. "We'll all shut up and listen. Right, guys?"

"Hey, I never said anything!" exclaimed Johnny, while Hank and Roy muttered dejected agreements.

Chet took a deep breath, squirming slightly in Marco's tight grasp. For a senior who was only five foot even, Marco was very strong. "Okay," Chet said, and then explained what had happened in a quiet, hollow voice. "I went to Early's office to blow off some steam—I was kind of fed up with everyone earlier."

Johnny sniffled. "He means me," he whispered into Roy's ear. Roy told him to be quiet.

Chet continued, "But when I got to the office, Principal Early wasn't there. Now I know that he was here, but at the time I was confused. I went inside his quarters—because Ms. McCall didn't tell me otherwise—and instead of Early, there was a body!"

Every man, woman and child in the cafeteria just then gasped. "Let's go check it out!" Hank yelled, and he led the gigantic mob to Principal Early's office. With all that pounding on his door, Dixie or Early must have heard the knocking, but neither of them opened up the door. "Open up!" Hank yelled.

They kicked down the door.

Once inside, the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth graders ransacked the office, searching everywhere for a body. It was gone.

"Uh—uh…" Chet was dumbfounded.

"It's not good to lie about things like that, Chet." Roy sounded mildly annoyed. To Roy, nothing was unforgiveable. Or even worth thinking about, really.

Roy was a pretty mellow guy.

Just then, Principal Early waddled in. The guilty students froze and watched Principal Early's reaction of surprise, rage, then understanding. "Come here, everybody," he whispered gently.

Johnny was confused.

"I'm glad that you students want to talk about the event that has happened," Principal Early believed, "And I'm glad that you followed my instructions and didn't bring this matter to your parents." Principal Early continued talking, and a few students laughed at some sort of quip he made, but Johnny was transfixed on another thing entirely.

Principal Early's shirt was covered with blood.

Had nobody else noticed? he wondered. Or were they just too scared to comment? Johnny decided that he was not too scared. "Uh…" he began, but then Chet fixed him a look to chill his blood. Johnny tried again. "Uhm—Principal Early—"

"Yes?" Principal Early inquired.

"Well, sir, your shirt—I mean, it's—"

"Oh, this?" Early chuckled, gesturing at the gigantic splotch of red on his blue polo. "Well, you see, I was trying to dye my shirt purple, and—well, you know how it of _course_ turned out—the red dye just got all over my shirt! It's not purple at all!" Principal Early guffawed. It was a flimsy lie

Marco guffawed as well.

Everyone else was silent.

Principal Early abruptly cut his laughter short, and several students froze as though they were scared of their own principal. Roy stepped in front of Johnny. "Would all of the students please leave my office?" Early asked cheerfully. Then fixed Johnny with a piercing stare. "Except… for that… _Gage_."

"Uh—I'll stay with him—!" Roy began, but Early cut him off with a curt shake of his head.

All the other students shuffled out, and a few of them patted Johnny on the back. Roy was the last to leave, shooting worried looks behind him every few feet on his way to the exit.

"Ms. McCall will escort you all to your next classes," Principal Early informed darkly. Then he looked at Johnny. "Please, sit down."

Johnny chose a straight-backed wooden chair across from the principal's cozy armchair (which happened to be inscribed with the words, _For the Happiest Principal Yet!_) and looked at Principal Early nervously.

Early stared at his shiny black principal shoes for a long time, then smiled and shook his head at the floor. "You're dismissed, Gage," he told him—much to Johnny's relief. "Just take care of yourself, now."

Johnny trotted out of the office and made his way to his history class, where all his friends were.

"How'd it go?" Roy asked worriedly.

"Huh?" Johnny asked stupidly. Then he realized what Roy was talking about. "Oh! Yeah, nothing's wrong. I just kind of sat in a chair while Principal Early stared at his shoes. It's all cool."

Roy looked doubtful, but turned back to the professor anyway. Roy took great pride in being a straight-A student.

But Hank was an A _plus_ student.

So much for all that hard work.

…**.**

On the way to their next class, Roy lost track of Johnny in the hallway. Close to panicking, Roy shoved through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of that shaggy black hair.

Not even a glimpse was visible.

Roy ran over to Chet. "Have you seen Johnny?!" he said frantically. Chet rolled his eyes.

"What, did you lose track of him?" Chet asked sarcastically. "Don't worry, Roy. I'm _pretty sure_ that Gage can take care of himself for _five minutes_. Who knows, he's probably just in the bathroom." Chet turned back to his locker.

Roy ran to check the bathrooms.

Upon running into the boy's bathroom, he discovered that was empty. All the stall doors were open and not a soul was inside. "Dang it!" Roy exclaimed, and ran out muttering, "Thisisn'tlikehimthisisn'tlikehimthisisn'tlikehim— !" Roy ran straight into Nurse Morton.

"Watch where you're going, kid," Morton said grumpily, and walked away.

Roy continued his mad search for Johnny until he saw that it was only one more minute before their next class—English—was scheduled to begin. Hurrying on to the classroom, Roy convinced himself that Johnny must be in there.

To his horror, however, Johnny was not there.

It was then that Roy something was seriously wrong.

…**.**

Johnny hid in the empty classroom until he was sure that Roy would have stopped looking for him.

He needed to do this alone.

After History, Johnny had gone to his locker just like always, ready to get out his English textbook. But instead he had found a note. It read, _Meet me at my office. Don't let anyone know where you are, and come alone. Just as soon as you can. –E_

Johnny, of course, assumed that this note was from Principal Early, as it was signed _E_, and so he had to obey if he didn't want to get expelled, probably. So, Johnny had hidden in Mr. White's old classroom while the bustle in the hall came and went.

Mr. White's classroom still smelled very much like death. While Johnny waited, he began to look around a little, to see if he could find anything of Mr. White's that he might want to be buried with him. All he found was an old McDonald's wrapper. Johnny had shrugged and turned back around to face the door when he saw it. A glimmer of gold.

Curious, not to mention attracted to a shiny object, Johnny went closer to investigate. It was in a far corner of the room, partially hidden under somebody's desk. _His_ desk, he realized when he looked at the graffiti that read, _J. G. is faster than you_. Intrigued, Johnny pulled out the shiny object and held it tight in his fist. Once he had stood up and sat at his desk, Johnny opened his hand up to see what it was. It turned out to be a wristwatch.

Principal Early's wristwatch. He could tell because of the tiny letters etched onto the back of it: _Best Principal of all __time__!_ The word _time_ was underlined, he supposed, so that the pun would be painstakingly obvious.

But that was not the point, Johnny had reminded himself. The point was that Principal Early's shirt was soaked with blood and his wristwatch was at the scene of Mr. White's death. But then… Had Mr. White just died? Or had he been _murdered by Principal Early?!_ Johnny gasped at the thought.

That was when things had gone from bad to worse. That was when Johnny had noticed the knife lying on the ground in front of Mr. White's desk. He must have missed it before because… Johnny really didn't know how he could have missed it: A very large knife covered with blood. He walked over and picked it up by the blade. He dropped it very quickly. He swore.

Grunting, Johnny bent over and picked it up again, this time gingerly, and by the handle. Then he gasped again. Because, sure enough, there were words carved into the blade: _To the Most Practical Principal of this Generation! Use this knife in any way that you find useful!_

Johnny felt sick. Apparently the school principal thought that using it to kill somebody was a good use for this knife.

Johnny carefully put the knife and the wristwatch into his backpack—he would use them as evidence when he went to confront Principal Early.

Now Johnny crept through the silent halls, dismayed by the secret he kept. When he reached Principal Early's office, Johnny took a deep breath and knocked. Principal Early opened the door almost immediately and beckoned Gage in distractedly. "Johnny, can you keep a secret?" Principal Early asked. Johnny felt his fingers go numb as all the blood rushed from his head. His eyes grew wide.

"W—what kind uh—of s—secret, Principal Early?" Johnny stuttered, thinking about the knife in his backpack. _Was Principal Early going to kill him, too?_

…**.**

Marco tried to comfort Roy as they hurried to their last class of the day; Social Studies. "Maybe he went home sick, Roy," he guessed, "You know that Johnny gets grossed out by things like… teachers dying…" It was pretty obvious that Marco was grossed out, too.

Who wouldn't be?

Marco had to jog to keep pace with Roy, who had much longer legs and was practically running through the halls in his anxiety. "Look, Roy," he said flatly. "Why don't you ask Hank? If John told anybody where he was going, it was probably him." Marco knew that this was a total lie, but maybe Hank could provide Roy with the reassurance he needed. Marco certainly couldn't.

Roy nodded absentmindedly. "Not a bad idea," he muttered, and ran ahead to find Hank.

Marco sighed and made his way through the crowd, trying to avoid the large knobby elbows and knees that swung towards his face. Finally he spotted Chet, and he walked over to him. "Hey, Chet," Marco said casually.

Chet was rifling around in his backpack. "Oh, hi, Marco," he said dreamily. It was obvious that there were other things on his mind. "How's it goin'?"

Marco shrugged. "All right. Roy's all torn up about what happened to Johnny."

Chet looked up, alarmed. "What happened? Is Johnny okay?" No matter what personal opinions Chet had about someone, you could always count on his genuine care for their well being.

"Oh. Haven't you heard?" Marco asked. How did Chet, of all people, not know that one of his friends was missing?

Chet shook his head.

Marco huffed. "He's missing," he told Chet. "Since after History." He shrugged again, to show that it was no big deal.

"Well then we have to look for him!" Chet said, looking at Marco like he was some sort of criminal for not coming up with the idea himself. Marco frowned.

"No, we have to go to class," he said, and began to walk away. Chet swung him back around.

"Are you crazy, Marco?" he cried, "Would you want us to ignore it if _you_ were missing?!" Marco shook his head.

Just then, Hank walked up with Roy. "We're gonna go search for Johnny," Hank said. "We think he might be in danger."

"…Why?" Marco asked.

Roy looked annoyed. "Because he's _Johnny_, that's why!" He stomped away.

"Well, where's he going?" Chet asked, staring at Roy's retreating figure.

"To get Mike, of course," Hank told them.

Chet and Marco wondered how they had gotten so out of the loop.

Roy came back, chatting with Mike. "…so we're going now," he finished, and then looked up at Hank expectantly. _Well, what's the plan, Hank?_

Hank couldn't help but be vaguely irritated. Why was _he_ always the default leader? Just because he took a leadership class after school?

Was that really all it took to be a leader?

Hank smiled.

"All right, men," he said authoritatively. "Here's the plan…"

…**.**

Johnny's heart was beating harder than it even did when he was running wringer in a relay. He felt as though he might feint or throw up out of anticipation of what Principal Early might do.

After Johnny had asked the principal what sort of a secret it was, Early had said, "I'll show you," and walked into his walk-in closet ominously and closed the door.

The closet door said, _A walk-in closet for a great principal!_

_Now that one_, Johnny thought, _Is not very creative._ He stood there, sweating, feeling like he should have bolted out the door minutes ago yet knowing that that would only have made things worse. _I should have _told_ someone_, he scolded himself. _Roy, or Hank, or just _any_body!_

Just then, Principal Early reentered the room. Johnny nearly had a heart attack.

Principal Early was holding a little brown box that was beautifully designed, little golden flowers embroidered into the lid.

"This is my deepest, darkest secret. I trust that you can keep it. You're my second favorite student, you know." Principal Early's gaze cut through Johnny like a knife.

Like a knife…

Johnny could feel his knees shaking and quickly pressed them together to make it stop. Even the sound of his own breathing was making him feel nauseous.

Principal Early was a murderer…

Johnny was in the same room as a _murderer_…

Principal Early had mercilessly taken someone else's life, probably for personal gain…

Principal Early opened the box. Inside was a stuffed bear with the words, _To the Best Principal I've ever known! Hope to see this sitting on your desk the next time I visit!_ written in elegant silver script across its violently green vest. The beat itself was a bright, obnoxious orange.

It hurt to look at.

"I've always meant to put this up, but I just find it so _ugly_…" Principal Early droned. _He's trying to distract you,_ thought Johnny distractedly, _Don't fall for it!_

Just then, several things happened at once. Principal Early stood up with a yelp. At first Johnny thought that maybe there was a thumbtack on his chair, but then there was a bang, a crash, and Principal Early fell to the ground (that caused another crash.) Johnny, confused, whipped around in his seat wildly, wondering what had happened—a black, stylish glove clamped on Johnny's mouth, something smooth and hard has slipped into his hand, and then—

Johnny really _did_ feint.

…**.**

They had scoured all the halls, bathrooms, and empty classrooms in the school. Roy looked near tears.

Just then, Mike slapped his forehead. "Mike, are you okay?!" they all cried, rushing towards their quiet friend. Mike, eyes, wide, nodded his head. Then he explained that he knew where Johnny was—Principal Early's office!

Of course! It was so obvious! Roy sighed in relief; Johnny would be safe with Principal Early… But then Roy remembered the blood all over his blue shirt with gold buttons, and how Mr. White had died from a stab wound and how just earlier that day Roy had seen Principal Early holding his special, custom butcher knife…

They all made a wild dash towards Early's office.

Once there, all five of them banged on the door at once. "Open up!" Roy yelled, while Hank said commandingly, "Anyone here?"

Marco and Chet called out abhorrent things like, "Hey, anybody home?" and, "Let us in, bozo!"

Surprisingly, nobody answered.

"We'll have to kick down the door!" ruled Hank. Marco kicked down the door.

Once inside, they all gasped. Principal Early was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, and Johnny sat in that straight-backed wooden chair that Chet hated so when he had to sit in it.

But that was not the point.

Johnny was sitting in that straight-backed wooden chair that Chet hated so when he had to sit in it _also unconscious_. "John! JOHNNY!" Roy screamed in despair, hugging his best friend's limp body. "NO-O-O-O-O-O!"

Just then, Johnny leaped up, apparently shocked awake by his friend's grief. Chet gasped. Hank gasped. Roy gasped. And Marco laughed nervously. Johnny was holding a _gun_.

"It was you…" Roy whispered, backing away from Johnny slowly. "All this time, it was you…"

Hank frowned. "John… How could you? You've betrayed us all beyond measure…"

Chet said, "I always knew he was a bad nut," and Mike asked if Johnny was going to jail.

Marco nodded.

Johnny stared at them all in bewilderment. Then he stared at the gun in his hand in bewilderment. He stared back and forth for several minutes.

Johnny was always a bit slow.

"Oh! _This_?" Johnny said, waving the gun upwards and accidentally firing off a shot into the ceiling. They all screamed very high pitched screams.

Just then, Nurse Morton came crashing out of Early's walk-in closet. _Wearing stylish black gloves_. "Hey, what's going on here?" he yelled, then ran over and disarmed Johnny. "What, are you guys crazy? This boy didn't have his medication today!"

Johnny let out a whoop, pointing at Nurse Morton. "Ah-_hah_! So it was you all along! Look, guys! NURSE MORTON DID IT!" Nurse Morton grimaced.

Roy just wanted Johnny to be innocent. "Hey, guys, I think it _is_ Nurse Morton!" he said. "After all, he's the nurse. He has access to all the medicines—he's always angry—he must have _poisoned_ Mr. White!"

Everyone agreed despite the fact that Mr. White had been stabbed. "Yeah!" they yelled, "Yeah!"

Just then, Johnny noticed Principal Early. "Is he… dead?"

Chet snapped around to face Johnny. "What makes you so sure of that, Gage?" he snarled, then ran over to check Early's pulse. However, he was pushed over by Roy ("I'm certified in first aid!"), and they started to wrestle viciously, hyped up by everything that was happening.

"Hey," Marco realized. "Nurse Morton couldn't have poisoned Mr. White. He was stabbed… Gage was just trying to trick us into thinking that he didn't do it!"

"Yeah!" yelled Mike. They tackled Johnny.

Hank stood dismally surveying the scene, but even he did not notice as Dixie slipped out of the office through the open door, looking very smug and holding Principal Early's fortune.

But anyone who _did_ notice would have noticed first that Dixie was wearing very fashionable black gloves, embroidered with the words, _Die Principal Early._

The End


End file.
